de_,-- [Sings.] That's excellent! Oh, now the Windows
open, now, now shew your capering Tricks. [Vaulting.
[They all play again.

Enter _Roger_ and a Company of Fellows as out of Sir _Patient's_
House, led on by _Abel_ a precise Clerk, all armed with odd
Weapons.

_Abel._ Verily, verily, here be these Babes of Perdition, these Children
of Iniquity.

_Rog._ A pox of your Babes and Children, they are Men, and Sons of
Whores, whom we must bang confoundedly, for not letting honest godly
People rest quietly in their Beds at Midnight.

Sir _Cred._ Who's there?

_Rog._ There, with a Pox to you; cannot a Right-worshipful Knight, that
has been sick these Twenty Years with taking Physick, sleep quietly in
his own House for you; and must we be rais'd out of our Beds to quiet
your Hell-pipes, in the Devil's name?

_Abel._ Down with _Gog_ and _Magog_, there; there's the rotten Bell
weather that leads the rest astray, and defiles the whole Flock.

_Rog._ Hang your preaching, and let's come to him, we'll maul him.
[Beat Sir _Cred._

Sir _Cred._ Oh, Quarter, Quarter, Murder, Help, Murder, Murder!

Enter _Lodwick_.

_Lod._ Damn these Rascals, who e'er they were, that so unluckily
redeem'd a Rival from my Fury,--Hah, they are here,--Egad, I'll have one
touch more with 'em,--the Dogs are spoiling my design'd Serenade
too--have amongst ye.-- [Fights and beats 'em off.] Sir _Credulous_, how
is't?

Sir _Cred._ Who's there? _Lodwick?_ Oh dear Lad, is't thou that hast
redeem'd me from the inchanted Cudgels that demolish'd my triumphant
Pageant, and confounded my Serenade? Zoz, I'm half kill'd, Man,--I have
never a whole Bone about me sure.

_Lod._ Come in with me--a plague upon the Rascal that escap'd me.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Lady _Knowell's_ House.

Enter _Lucretia_, followed by Sir _Credulous_.

_Lucr._ Marry'd to morrow! and leave my Mother the possession of
_Leander_! I'll die a thousand Deaths first.--How the Fool haunts me!
[Aside.

Sir _Cred._ Nay, delicious Lady, you may say your Pleasure; but I will
justify the Serenade to be as high a piece of Gallantry as was ever
practised in our Age, though not comparable to your Charms and celestial
Graces, which shou'd I praise as I ought, 'twou'd require more time than
the Sun employs in his natural Motion between the Tropicks; that is to
say, a whole Year, (for by the way, I am no _Copernican_) for, Dear
Madam,